Liquid Courage
by In Dreams
Summary: Sometimes it takes a little liquid courage to share what we really think. Dramione/Nottpott.


**Author's Note:** A huge, massive Happy Birthday to my dear friend Frumpologist. This piece was written using the prompts: **In Vino Veritas** (drunken confessions); **Hogsmeade**;** Balloons**. She submitted this prompt for my one million words celebration on Tumblr and I told her I couldn't fit it in at the time, because I wanted to write it for her birthday instead. :D I hope you enjoy this bit of Dramione with some background Nottpott, my sunshine love!

Alpha love to Kyonomiko; this piece is un-beta'd and mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any part of the Harry Potter franchise, and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"_No_." The word was emphatic. Stern, even. There was an imploring tone to Hermione's voice – maybe a hint of a whimper. "I can't do it, Harry."

Harry offered a nervous grin, edging a step away. "I'm not asking you to befriend the bloke, Hermione. Civility – make him feel _welcome_."

Folding her arms, Hermione lifted a brow. "He _isn't_ welcome – is he?"

Releasing an aggravated sigh, Harry waved his arms about. "He's invited. Theo wants him there, and the least I can do is make an effort not to completely antagonize his best mate, right?"

"So you're telling me," Hermione hedged, ignoring Harry's dramatic eye roll, "that Draco Malfoy actually wants to attend your birthday party?"

"Like I said." Giving up on the argument, Harry ventured towards her fridge, peering at its contents. "He's Theo's best mate. Honestly, when is the last time you've even seen Malfoy? And _don't_ say the war, because that was eight years ago, and you know he isn't that brat anymore."

"Fine." Her shoulders deflated as most of the fight sank from her countenance. "But why me? Can't Malfoy keep himself company?"

"He literally can't," Harry said, lips twitching with humour. "And you know how Ron is. He still doesn't really like talking to Theo, and we'll be lucky if Ron and Malfoy aren't at each other with fists by the time they get a few Firewhiskeys going."

"A mediator." Shaking her head, Hermione felt herself relent. "You need me to be a mediator."

"Just…" Harry took a large bite of an apple from her fruit bowl. "Try to be nice? Who knows – you might have more in common these days than you realize."

Hermione released a high, incredulous laugh. "I highly doubt that. You're lucky I love you, Harry Potter."

* * *

Although she hadn't had anything to do with the Slytherin at Hogwarts, Hermione had grown quite fond of Theodore Nott in the six months since he and Harry had become an item.

Harry had worn his abundant burdens for too long after the end of the war, and for years, Hermione had worried about him. But there was a lightness to him she'd never seen, and a genuine warmth in his grin as he turned towards Theo across the room.

Despite anything else, she would have liked Theo for that alone. But the man was clever and witty, and he and Harry had a sort of unspoken connection that Hermione hoped to one day find for herself.

Long years had passed since the war, and everyone had done their best to move on. Theo, having lost his mother as a child, and his father to Azkaban, had integrated almost seamlessly into Harry's life.

The only downside was that with Theo, came Malfoy.

The blond was lurking around the small pub in Hogsmeade that Harry and Theo had rented for the evening, in order to give Harry a proper celebration, as Theo had put it. And Hermione considered herself fortunate she hadn't yet had reason to address Malfoy.

She didn't doubt he had changed since the war – they all had – but that didn't mean she wanted to get to know him.

Speak of the devil. As if feeling her stare, Malfoy turned to look at her, and she could feel his grey eyes lock on her from across the room. Turning on her heel to lean against the bar, hoping he would shove off, Hermione took a long sip of her elven wine. It was an excellent vintage, and she'd been imbibing perhaps heavier than she'd meant to.

But moments later, Malfoy appeared at her side, a tumbler of amber liquid between his fingers as he leaned back alongside her.

"So."

Hermione fought to keep her expression passive as she dipped her chin in an effort at a nod. "Malfoy."

Following her gaze across the room, he went on. "Potter and Theo, eh."

Another long swig of her wine. "Right."

"Right," Malfoy echoed, the word half-hearted. "Well, enjoy your evening, Granger."

Releasing a sigh as he pushed himself off from the bar, making to walk away, Hermione tapped her fingernails on the edge of her glass. "Malfoy, wait." Expression blank, he settled in at her side once more. "Theo's good for him."

Half expecting a rebuttal, and preparing to launch a defense of her friend, Hermione was surprised when he chuckled. "They're good for each other. I've never seen Theo like this over anyone. I think it might be the real deal."

Allowing her gaze to flicker in his direction, Hermione took him in for the first time. His hair was the same blinding shade of platinum blond, but he wore it differently than he had in school. His features had matured into the sharp lines of a man, high cheekbones and defined jaw, and despite herself, Hermione felt a flush colour her cheeks as she glanced away.

He swished the contents of his glass before taking a sip.

"Right," Hermione said, feeling flustered. "I think so too."

Across the room, Ron and Seamus were drunk and boisterous, causing a ruckus, and Malfoy snickered. "And you? Things with Weasley never panned out?"

"No," Hermione mused, her tone delicate, "that never went anywhere." Chuckling to herself, she added under her breath, "Thank Merlin."

Apparently Malfoy heard the quip because he released a low snort. "I could never see it."

Despite that she felt the same sentiment, there was something about Malfoy expressing it that caused her to tense, her hackles raised. Her words forced, she announced, "Ron and I are still friends."

Malfoy's pale brows flickered on his forehead. "Of course you are."

There was a long, tense moment of silence between them before Hermione sighed, forcing herself to return the interest. "And you? Are you here with someone?"

"No." With another sip of his Firewhiskey, a musing smile curled his lips as he leaned an arm back on the bar; he was the picture of casual ease. "I find I've grown weary of casually dating for the sake of _Witch Weekly_ appearances."

Hermione wasn't certain whether that was meant as a joke, but a short titter escaped her all the same. "I know what you mean."

And he had certainly graced the cover more than once. She would never understand the fascination with writing obsessively about one man's love life, simply because he happened to be filthy rich and a former Death Eater.

But then, the reporters had never quite grown tired of her life, either.

Malfoy chuckled, a hint of his old smirk on his face. "I suppose you would." Glancing his way, she noted a glossy sheen to his eyes, and she wondered how much he'd had to drink. Snickering, he swatted a gathering of charmed balloons away from his face as they drifted around the room, smacking obnoxiously into people. "Imagine the headlines if the pair of us were spotted here right now."

Despite herself, Hermione laughed again, feeling something like nerves flutter in her stomach as she met his stare. His gaze lingered on her for a long moment, and she huffed a breath as she tore her stare from his, warmth in her neck and face.

Unable to stop herself, she blurted, "I like your tie."

Something flickered briefly across his face before he ducked his chin, stoic. "Thank you. I like your dress."

With a proper nod in return, she said, "Thank you."

Malfoy took another long sip of his drink before turning around and signalling to the bartender to order another. Moments later, he accepted not only another Firewhiskey, but another glass of wine for her. "Theo says Potter asked you to babysit me tonight."

Hermione nearly choked on her wine. "It wasn't _quite so –_"

"It's fine." With an absent shrug, he took a sip from his fresh drink. "I know you lot aren't comfortable with me. And it's perfectly justified."

Something twisted uncomfortably in her stomach to be lumped in with the rest of Harry's friends, when _she_ was the only one who'd made an effort to talk to Malfoy. _At Harry's request_. She frowned, turning back to him.

"Maybe it's just time," she mused, admitting the sentiment to herself at the same time. "Time we all just… move on."

"I appreciate that," he said. "There are a lot of things for which I need to make amends. But I'll confess it, Granger, that this conversation has gone better than I expected."

Wine-induced warmth raced through her veins as Hermione swallowed. "Same, actually."

Malfoy cracked a wry grin and proffered his whiskey glass; with a hint of a smile, Hermione clinked her wine glass against it. He murmured, "Cheers, Granger." Then waving across the room to where Theo had caught his eye, he said, "Have a good night, yeah?"

Her reaction was delayed until she offered a brisk nod, and a quick, "Yeah." She took a sip of her wine. "You too, Malfoy."

And he was gone. Leaving her with a curious flutter in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

By the time her own birthday rolled around, Malfoy had become a sort of unwitting acquaintance, given the amount of time he spent with Theo. And given Theo and Harry had basically become joined at the hip.

So Hermione had invited him to her party, as well. Because he was Theo's friend, and not for any additional reasons. Although there was a sort of glimmer in his eye when he looked at her that caused something deep and forbidden within her to clench in anticipation.

Harry had arranged to book the same pub in Hogsmeade – as it turned out, Theo knew the owner – and the night felt remarkably similar as Hermione took a deep swig of her wine, slipping into a booth where Theo sat with a bottle of whiskey. A swath of charmed balloons had collapsed onto the seat beside her and nudged feebly at her legs every few minutes.

"Honestly," Theo mused, leaning forward in his seat as Hermione settled beside him. She followed his gaze, squinting at Harry, Ron, Dean, and Seamus as they engaged in a riotous match of darts along the far wall. "Someone's going to get hurt."

Giggling, Hermione planted her wine glass on the table in front of her. "I think you're right."

Considering the game for a long moment – or maybe he was just that loaded – Theo lifted a hand and pointed. "I mean – they're _throwing_ sharpened projectiles. Am I understanding this correctly?"

"You've about got it." Taking a sip of her drink, she settled in with a grin. "Wise of you to keep away."

"Slytherin," he mused. "Self-preservation, and all that."

"So explain that." Hermione released a raucous laugh as Malfoy wandered up alongside the game, sipping from his drink as he folded the other arm across his chest and lingered to watch.

"Draco's a different breed of Slytherin," Theo said with a snort. "I mean, look at him. He's worn a full suit to a pub for a birthday party."

Hermione wasn't about to admit that she liked the way he wore a suit. _Or_ that she'd been eyeing the fit of his trousers since he'd arrived.

"He's so…" Her nose wrinkled. "Proper."

"_So_ proper," Theo groaned. "He's literally never not proper."

Hermione waved a hand, giggling. "Aristocratic. Snobbish."

"Judgey," Theo added, snorting. "_Disdainful_. In the dictionary, there's a photo of Draco beside the definition of Pureblood."

With a guffaw of laughter, she swiped at a tear beneath one eye. "I bet you," she gasped, "he's so proper, when he's undressing for sex, he stops to hang up his clothes."

Theo barked out a laugh so obnoxious several people nearby turned to stare. Pounding a fist on the table, he choked out, "I bet he wears a handkerchief when he goes down on a woman."

Hermione clutched at her stomach, tears of mirth tracking down her cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath.

Putting on his most affected, posh accent, Theo said, between heaving draws of breath, "Excuse me, ol' chap, I'll need the dessert spoon for this."

Embarrassing keens of laughter poured from her as Hermione dropped her face to the wooden table, and as her chest heaved, she gasped out, "I bet he –"

"Hello."

Blinking up at the addition to their table, Hermione felt a flush colour her cheeks as she struggled to control herself. Beside her, Theo threw his head back with a laugh, tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks.

Forcing herself to sit up, she bit down hard on her bottom lip, titters of laughter escaping her mouth.

Malfoy was holding his wine glass by its stem as he straightened the knot of his tie, his shoulders perfectly straight against the back of the upholstered booth. His lips twitched. "I seem to have missed the punchline."

Hermione caught sight of Theo's hazel eyes for the briefest of moments and it was her undoing. He choked out a laugh, and she couldn't stop herself as she dissolved into peals of uncontrolled laughter once more.

Glancing around the room, Malfoy took a calm sip of his wine.

Gasping for breath, Hermione stared straight at him, and said, "I like your stubble."

Surprise flitted through his expression and he dragged a hand along the coarse layer of blond stubble on his jaw. "Ah, I had a lie-in this morning. Didn't have time to shave."

"She said she liked it," Theo deadpanned, wiping at his eyes.

"Oh." Malfoy set his wine down, fingers tapping the base of the glass. "Thanks, Granger. I like your –" He paused, eyeing her for a moment. "Your hair. I like what you've done with your hair tonight."

Theo eyed her with a leading stare. "He likes your _hair_." Snuffling as he withheld laughter, he tugged one of her curls.

Biting down on her bottom lip, Hermione said, "Thanks, Malfoy."

* * *

The next time Hermione saw Malfoy, he wore a thin layer of stubble where he was usually clean-shaven. He was closely eyeing the contents of two identical jars of lacewing flies in the apothecary in Diagon Alley, and didn't notice her until she cleared her throat.

He jolted to the side, wrenched from his inspection of the jars, and nearly dropped one of them to the floor. A dull flush coloured his cheeks as he turned to her. "Granger. Hi."

Pressing her lips together to refrain from laughing, Hermione nodded. "Hello." She waved a hand. "Are the flies adequate?"

The bridge of his nose wrinkled and he stowed one in his basket. "They'll do."

As she added a jar to her own collection of ingredients, she flashed him a grin. And while she dawdled down the rest of the aisle, she felt his gaze linger on her. Rebellious butterflies formed in her stomach and as the awkward, imposed silence pushed her to bid him farewell, she held her tongue at the look on his face.

"So," he hedged, moistening his lips, "what are you doing now?"

"Right now?"

His eyes rolled. "After this."

Mouth twitching, she answered, "I need to eat."

"What a coincidence," Malfoy quipped, "so do I."

Hermione couldn't fight the smile tugging at her lips. "Perhaps it would be reasonable if we were to eat together."

"Reasonable _and_ expedient." He lifted a pale brow, and his slow grin chased a breath from her lungs.

One hour and two bottles of wine later, Hermione found herself cackling at something Malfoy had said. The wine sloshed dangerously in his glass as he waved it in her direction.

"I'm not lying," he pressed, shaking his head as a smirk pulled at his lips. "When you walked in with _Krum_, of all people, Pansy actually threw her hat." Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. As she opened her mouth to speak, Malfoy added, "Although she was more upset because I couldn't stop watching you."

Her mouth slammed shut with an audible click of her teeth; her throat felt dry. "Why?"

Glossy grey eyes found hers. "Because I thought you were beautiful."

"No you didn't." The words chased out before she could stop them, and an uncomfortable feeling welled in the pit of her stomach.

Glancing away, he gave an inelegant snort. "Okay, I didn't."

Heat flared in her chest, and despite herself, Hermione felt a smile tug at her lips. "_You_. Draco Malfoy – Slytherin blood supremacist –"

"I get it," he huffed, taking a swig of his wine. "But I also wasn't blind." Staring at the table with a heavy bob to his throat, he added, "As I still am not."

Hermione gaped at him for a long moment before offering a nervous titter. "You're drunk."

Dragging a hand down his face, Malfoy blinked at the empty second bottle on the table. "Sort of. Okay, yeah." He gave a belated, clunky nod and brandished one finger. "_But_. I'm still not blind."

Her voice sounded small to her own ears. "Thanks." Then Hermione cleared her throat, fidgeting with her napkin as she stared at the table. "While we're being honest, I'm not blind either." Making a face, she elaborated, "You know – about you, I mean…"

He barked a laugh, even as a dull hint of colour turned his cheeks. "It's the stubble, isn't it?"

"At least fifty percent."

It was dangerous territory between them, when Hermione didn't even _really_ like him, and they largely only spent time together because they were forced to. But she couldn't deny the twist in her stomach and the heat coiling in her core when she looked at him.

And now… Merlin, there was heat in his stare, and a mischievous curl to his lips that set her heart racing.

It was only the middle of the evening and the pub was full – mostly with people who thought it was acceptable to leer at the pair of them – and she felt downright indecent in Malfoy's presence.

After what felt like a long moment but was probably only seconds, he said, "Well, Granger, I'm flattered."

His words were a little slurred, and her vision was a little blurred, but she breathed, "Do you want to get out of here?" Flushing as his expression shifted with surprise, she added, "You know, for a nightcap."

"A nightcap," he repeated, and the low rumble of his voice shot straight to her core. He dropped a handful of galleons on the table – significantly more than the bill. "Sure, Granger."

When he rose from his seat, towering over her, Hermione slipped her hand into his and pulled him into Apparition. The feel of his skin on hers tingled through her nerves.

Before she could pull away, once they'd landed in her flat, Malfoy's eyes met hers, and then his mouth was on hers, lips firm and insistent, warm and tasting like wine.

At her shocked inaction he froze, drawing back, and his brow furrowed in consternation.

Swallowing, he murmured, "You actually meant alcohol."

There was a hesitant turn to his mouth and her lips parted, breathless. "No." Shaking her head, Hermione said, "No, this is what I ultimately meant."

He gave an awkward chuckle, dragging his fingers along the curve of her jaw. "We can have a drink first, if you prefer –"

"Shut up," she breathed against his mouth, drawing him in again. The feel of his lips against hers caused her eyes to flutter, and her fingers fumbled with the knot of his tie as his tongue teased hers, his hands sliding up her back and shifting her against the wall of the sitting room.

The hard lines of his body pressed against her shot a jolt of desire through her and Hermione pushed his shirt from his shoulders with a decided lack of finesse, the kiss between them growing rushed and hazy with alcohol.

She was drunk enough to know better, but not so drunk she didn't realize what, exactly, she was doing, and in that moment all she wanted was Malfoy's hands on her.

So when he muttered a gruff, "Bedroom?" into her ear, she gave a voracious nod, dragging him down the corridor towards her room where they made quick, fumbling work of one another's clothes.

It was easier to feel than to think, and the feel of his hands, his mouth, his body on hers –

Her mind spiralled off, overcome with desire and his heady presence.

* * *

Hermione didn't even know whose birthday it was this time. But they were all back in the same pub in Hogsmeade with the same charmed balloons chasing her around the room.

Malfoy was in attendance as usual, and Hermione felt a dark flush of colour rise to her cheeks as she noticed him in conversation with Harry and Theo in a booth across the room. They hadn't really spoken since the time they'd been loaded in Diagon Alley and she'd invited him over.

For what had turned into several rounds of mindblowing sex.

But when she'd awoken, startled and blinking wildly the next morning in his arms, he'd merely stared at her with wide eyes.

His voice was thick as he'd asked, "Should I leave?"

Uncertain, and suddenly aware of a throbbing headache, Hermione had only given him an absent shrug. She hadn't known what, if anything, there was between them, and it hadn't felt like the moment for declarations of any sort.

So he'd offered a sort of half-hearted smile, dressed, and pressed a kiss to her temple before Disapparating.

And now… he was at the same blasted pub, again. And she was into the wine too heavily, again.

Steeling her nerves, Hermione finished her glass of wine and approached the group, sitting awkwardly closer to Harry than to Malfoy, and she ignored the hot feeling of grey eyes on her as she slipped into the conversation.

Some time later, Harry and Theo drifted away, leaving Hermione alone with the blond. She'd procured another glass of wine and took a deep swig as she sank back into her seat.

When the tense silence between them grew too thick, she blurted the first thing she could think of. "I don't even know whose birthday party this is."

Malfoy took a swig of his whiskey, delicately setting the tumbler down on the table. "I don't think it's anyone's birthday. I think Theo's just a bit of a lush and he likes coming here."

A bright laugh escaped past her mouth and Malfoy's lips curled with a smirk.

A clump of balloons smacked into the side of his face and he flinched. "He could bugger off with the balloons, though."

"Right." With a final titter, she fell silent again. "So… about the other day."

Without missing a beat, Malfoy intoned, "_I_ don't regret what happened."

A breath caught in her throat and she forced a swallow. "Neither do I." After a pause, she added, "I just didn't know what to make of it at the time."

"Noted." He took another sip of his whiskey before dropping the empty glass to the table. "Want to come over?"

Grateful for his easy acceptance of the situation, and unwilling to deny the offer, she nodded. His lips pulled into a slow grin, and with a furtive glance around the pub, his hand slipped into hers, dragging her up to stand.

The feel of his touch and the sparkle in his eyes set off an absent fluttering in her chest.

* * *

She was in over her head.

It wasn't an easy pill to swallow, and Hermione had almost lost track of the months as they passed. Another "birthday" every month – which ultimately meant drinks at the same pub, but with Theo's irritating balloons – and inevitably ending the night in Malfoy's bed.

He was perfectly sociable when they were out, and she had no complaints on the physical aspect of things between them.

But Hermione had no clue what was going on, and she didn't know how to ask.

Or maybe she was afraid to ask – in case she didn't like the answer.

She had always been both assertive and straightforward, and usually when it came to men, that held true – but there was something about Malfoy. Something about the way she had resisted allowing herself to care for him for so long on principle.

But now she was so far gone she hadn't even seen it creeping up on her.

She liked him – and Hermione feared it was worse than that.

Cursing herself all the while, she took extra care on her appearance under the guise of Harry's birthday celebration. It was difficult to believe it had been an entire year since she had first connected with Malfoy.

Although she had wanted to ask him to attend with her – properly, as a date – she hadn't been able to gather the nerve. There was a small, fragile part of her that wasn't quite ready to accept that maybe he didn't want anything more. But if that was the case… Hermione liked to think she had enough remaining will to collect the remains of her self-image and end things.

Steeling her courage, she Apparated to the pub.

* * *

Another night – another birthday party. Although it was _actually_ a birthday, and not just Theo's excuse to get his friends drunk.

There was a melancholy in Hermione's soul that she'd not felt before, and she sipped idly at her drink at Malfoy's side, watching as the room engaged in various forms of revelry. His hand lingered on her thigh beneath the table, his fingers playing about the bare skin beneath her dress, but she couldn't help the slump in her shoulders.

His gaze was across the room, where Theo and Harry were engaged in a competitive match of darts. "Spill."

"What?"

Stormy eyes slid to meet hers. "You're not alright. What is it?"

"Nothing." The response was quick, almost automatic, and his pale brows lifted.

"It isn't nothing – if you think I don't know you better than that, Hermione –"

She released a sigh, dropping her arms to the table and burying her face between them. The hand on her leg withdrew, only to land on her back moments later, and she could feel his face ducked near hers. When she chanced a peek, his brow was furrowed with concern.

Forcing a swallow, she sat back up, pressing her back to the bench. Her stomach twisted with nausea. "Nothing's wrong. I think I just need some air."

Disbelief hung on his face, along with something else, when she extracted herself from the booth, unable to handle the disappointment.

The cool evening air outside the pub did nothing other than to force moisture to the corners of her eyes as Hermione sucked in deep, heaving breaths, wrapping her arms around herself.

It wasn't kind of her to run out on him, but it also wasn't fair to waste his time and to continue to put herself through this if they wanted different things. Releasing a long, rattling exhale, Hermione scoured her soul for the bravery to do what she needed to.

Feeling a presence at her side, Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but froze when she noticed Theo leaning against the wall beside her.

"You do know _everyone_ knows you two are shagging, yeah?"

It wasn't what she'd expected him to say, and she found herself staring blankly back. Theo huffed a sigh, rolling his head to face her. "Just bloody talk to him."

Releasing a small breath, she whispered, "I can't."

"You _can_," Theo mused. "Honestly, you two have been dancing around one another so long it's driving Harry and I nuts."

Hermione shook her head. "What do you –"

"Daft," Theo drawled, sounding so much like Malfoy it made her heart clench. "_Talk_ to him."

Her heart jumped in her chest but she didn't dare allow herself to believe what he was implying. Finally Theo sighed, pushing off from the wall to face her; his expression was more serious than she'd seen. "Draco thinks this is all you want. He thinks he isn't good enough and that you'll never want to be seen in public with him."

"That isn't true," she said quickly, then added, "none of it."

Theo waved his hands in frustration. "_Talk to him_. Merlin, you're each as bloody stubborn as the other."

Ignoring the anxious racing of her heart, Hermione intoned, "You're serious."

"Of course I'm serious –"

Before he could finish the sentence she made for the door, anticipation coursing as adrenaline through her veins.

Malfoy was leaning against the wall, a frown on his face and his arms folded as he watched a game of darts. His expression shifted when she approached, cautious hesitation in his eyes. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," she breathed, taking a step closer. He stared down at her, his face blank as he dropped his arms, but his eyes widened when she dropped a hand to his chest, her other hand catching his; he entwined their fingers. Voice cracking, she whispered, "Is _this_ okay?"

"Merlin, yes," he choked, tugging her closer.

Searching his icy stare, she asked, "This is what you want?"

His throat bobbed with a swallow. "If you do."

With a surge of elation, a smile tugging at her mouth, Hermione pressed up on her toes and caught his lips in a searing kiss.

The room around them fell silent – but Hermione was only aware of the way he pulled her in, his lips hard on hers.

Vaguely, she heard Harry grumble at her back, "About bloody time."

When she pulled back, meeting Draco's bright stare, she couldn't help the wide grin that stretched across her face. Distantly, she was aware of everyone else returning to what they'd been doing and her head fell to the side. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Sweeping his hair from his face, he shrugged. "I guess I didn't think you wanted me that way."

Feeling liquid courage in her veins, she breathed, "I want you in every way possible, Draco Malfoy."

As he pulled her back in, the warmth of his whiskey mingled on her breath. "You've already got me."


End file.
